Never Good Enough
by catgurl83
Summary: Her best was never good enough; she was never good enough." Mary centered story. Complete


Disclaimer: Mary Camden doesn't belong to me.  
  
Author: Catgurl83  
  
Title: Never Good Enough  
  
Feedback: Feedback is much appreciated.  
  
Rating: PG. for mentions of domestic violence.  
  
Author's notes: The inspiration for this story came to me while I was listening to the new song Me and Emily. I really don't consider this to be a songfic but you'll see traces of the song in the story.  
  
The story centers around Mary and you'll see that it is very alternate universe. Her husband is my creation.

As always, thanks to Kimberly for beta reading for me.

As night fell around her, Mary glanced out at the barren road. It was so quiet outside of her car, so empty. In the waning light, she couldn't see any other cars. It was as if she was all alone.  
  
She glanced out the driver's side window. Below her, she could see the murky blue water of the Pacific Ocean. With the lack of light, the water looked pitch black.  
  
On the other side of the car was a desolate mountain. She felt trapped between the two, almost smothered. She should have known better than to have taken the Pacific Coast Highway, especially at night. As a child, this long, winding, stretch of road had terrified her.  
  
She hadn't been thinking about that. All she had been able to think was that she needed to get out of there, and fast. She couldn't take it anymore. It was just too much. Everything had been closing around her, suffocating her, making her claustrophobic. Much more so than this road was now.  
  
She'd thought about going home to her parents, but that would be the first place that he'd look. Her parents would have allowed her to stay there anyway, but she didn't want to involve them. This was her mess and she'd get out of it by herself.  
  
Everyone had known that her marriage wasn't a good idea. She hadn't wanted to listen to their objections, had made sure that they'd known that.  
  
She'd thought that she'd loved him, she really had. And he'd said that he loved her, over and over again. She'd stupidly believed him. Then, after knowing each other for less than six months, they'd married.  
  
At first, everything had been wonderful. She'd been so blissfully happy. She'd been in love with the thought of being in love.  
  
After a few months, everything began to change. He'd started coming home later and later. Half the time he was drunk when he walked in the door, when he climbed in bed beside her in the middle of the night. He would insist that he hadn't been drinking but she knew better. She could smell the alcohol on him and on his clothes. They'd argue about it and he'd storm out. It would be hours or, eventually, even days before he returned.  
  
She suspected that he spent those missing days with another woman but he always denied it. He'd get so angry when she suggested the possibility, so hostile toward her. Once, he even suggested that it was her having the affair. She'd argued, insisted that it wasn't true and he had gotten angrier and angrier. He'd insisted that if not an affair, than something else had to be taking her time. She sure wasn't spending her time being a good wife. According to him, nothing she did was right. His clothes were never ironed properly, his food never cooked correctly, and the house was never clean enough.  
  
She'd told him that she did her best and he laughed harshly, telling her that her best was no where near good enough; she wasn't good enough. Then, for the first time, he'd hit her. She was stunned and had no idea how to react. He hit her once more and then walked out.  
  
She didn't see him for several days and when he finally came home he told her it was her fault, she antagonized him.  
  
After that, it had happened regularly. He got more and more abusive as time went on. Half the time she couldn't leave the house due to the bruises marring her skin.  
  
She had taken it all. What choice had she had, really? She had married him against everyone's advice. They'd all seen something in him that had worried them, yet she had shrugged off their concerns, even going as far as to tell Lucy that it was none of her business and to butt out. She couldn't go crying to them after that. Like the saying went, she'd made her bed and she had to lie in it.  
  
But then, she'd found out that she was pregnant. She'd been terrified of what he'd do to the baby but he'd been surprisingly tender throughout her pregnancy. He'd changed back into the man whom she'd dated, whom she'd thought that she'd loved. She'd wondered if the last several months had been a fluke, if she'd been wrong about him.  
  
Eight months ago the baby was born. It was a little girl whom they'd named Brianna after her father, Brian. Her parents and Lucy had flown up to Oregon to be there when Bri was born. In the next few weeks, everyone else had come up a few at a time, so as not to overwhelm her, her mother had said. Brian had been on his best behavior, playing doting father and husband in front of her parents and siblings.  
  
After everyone had left, he disappeared for almost a week. She confronted him when he came back, drunk and noisy. So noisy that he awoke the baby before he was even all the way inside. His reaction had been to slap her, hard. She'd had a welt across her cheek for three days. The abuse had continued but she'd put up with it for Brianna's sake.  
  
As abusive as Brian was toward her, he was always sweet with the baby. He'd come home and go straight to Bri's room to check on her and if she was awake, hold her and play with her.  
  
Unfortunately, the baby gave him something else to criticize her about. She didn't change Bri soon enough after she soiled her diaper; that was why the baby had diaper rashes. She didn't spend enough time with Bri or clean her crib bedding often enough. She didn't take the baby to see his parents often enough and was standoffish if they came over.  
  
As Bri got older, Brian's interest in the baby diminished. He started spending most of his free time at the bar again. When he was home, the child annoyed him. She was too noisy now and her growing mobility got on his nerves.  
  
She was into everything and Brian couldn't stand it. He'd yell at the baby, tell her to mind and become very angry when she didn't do as he was telling her. Mary had tried to explain that Bri was just a baby, she didn't understand what he was telling her, and her explorations were just because she was curious. He wouldn't listen.  
  
Mary glanced at her daughter in the rearview mirror. Brianna was asleep in her carseat, the stuffed bunny that her grandparents had given her when she was born clutched to her chest. She looked so peaceful and angelic.  
  
The rest of the back seat was stuffed with baby paraphernalia. It took so much stuff to travel with an infant. There were bags of clothes and toys, baby blankets, diapers and wipes, baby food, formula powder, and other assorted items. The back end of the station wagon was crammed full. She'd managed to fit in the stroller, a portable playpen/crib, and her own belongings. She'd brought along her laptop so that she could continue to work.  
  
She'd never been more grateful that she was a freelance writer. She could work from anywhere, even a motel room.  
  
Her eyes settled on her daughter again. Her reason for leaving, her reason for living- for breathing. Brianna was everything to her now.  
  
The day before, Brian had come home while she was making dinner. Bri had been playing in the family room that adjoined the kitchen. As her father walked into the room, the baby reached for a brightly colored vase; a vase that Brian had refused to allow Mary to put out of the baby's reach. The vase, a wedding gift from Brian's parents, had crashed to the floor, shattering. Brianna had wailed in fright but all that Brian had done was start yelling at the baby. Mary had rushed into the room and picked up her terrified daughter, scared that Brian was going to hit the baby.  
  
She's known that night, after Brian finally left, that she couldn't stay there, couldn't make Brianna stay there. Eventually he'd get angry enough to hit the child and nothing that Mary could do would stop him.  
  
So, today, while he was at work, she'd calmly gathered as many of their belongings as she could fit in the car and left, knowing that she might not ever see any of her other things again.  
  
She had no idea where she was going. She'd just climbed into her car and begun driving. Now, her only goal was to find a motel to stop at for the night. Maybe she'd stay through tomorrow before travelling further. Brianna had spent most of today cooped up in the car; she'd enjoy the chance to play tomorrow. Maybe their motel would have a pool that she could take the baby in.  
  
Finally, she came upon an exit. She took it, hoping that she'd find a suitable place to stop. After another half-hour, she came upon a small motel, part of a national chain. The parking lot was well lit and there were several cars parked in the lot. She could see the fenced in pool and the sign proclaimed that there were vacancies and that the place had cable TV. Next door was a fast-food restaurant, open twenty four hours a day. She pulled into the drive through to get dinner.  
  
After she picked up something to eat, she pulled into the motel's parking lot, a smile on her face. This place would do nicely. Inside, she got a room for the night and the next day. It was on the second floor and had a good view of the pool; Brianna would like that.  
  
She carted up the things that they needed immediately, thankful that the baby was still sleeping. She quickly set up the crib and gently set Bri in it.  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at her daughter lovingly. Brianna's small fist was tucked into her mouth and a wisp of her curly blond hair had fallen into her eyes. Mary's eyes welled up with tears. She stood and crossed to the crib, leaning over to press her lips to the baby's forehead, her tears trickling down Brianna's face. "I love you so much," she whispered.  
  
Author's note: Let me know what you think. 


End file.
